Novel & Cerita Crown Of The Kobold King

he said while giving Theresa to Stefan’s arm. Meanwhile, the wisp of smoke that just came out from Theresa’s mouth quickly gathered into a shape of a humanoid form and it materialized as King Edgar Brownfur. The king was wearing a luxuries black robe, embroidered with hundreds of diamonds, which created floral patterns on his robe. The king was quite tall and lean, he had black smooth hair, fair white skin and a well-trimmed beard. What made everyone know that he was the King of Paltiti magical kingdom, was the dazzling silver crown on his head, which skillfully crafted from a high-quality white gold.

His hand is fully covered in the surcoat but the muscular build striking the cloth at times makes the strongest of men fear and purest of women to lust. The king steps on the raised stone ring around the Kauri tree. The low branches of a tree behind his head are blocking all the sunrays. His golden crown looks dull and his light brown face darker. The tall king standing on the raised platform of the stone is now twice the height of people standing on the ground. His green eyes trail from start to distant end. The chattering among distant people starts and transcends slowly towards the front. "You all are right," comes the king's loud and deep voice till the end of the crowd, and their chatte

The man said and the leader turned away from her to face his subordinate. Seeing the blank signed check stamped with the renowned Robertsons' family seal, the leader, named Bobby, snatched it from the other man as his eyes shone with greed. He didn't knew how this wench got such a huge luck, but Bobby already had a brilliant idea in his head. With a woman as this with such a luck, he could always find her whenever he needed such easy cash again. He grinned with delighted mischief as he turned to face Loki again. Reaching out his hands, Bobby pulled her up to a sitting position, his renowned mischievous smile still on display.

“I know.” A small, breathless smile curved his mouth. “And I love you too,” she whispered. Below them, the lake caught the light and held it, and the forest around it carried that warmth inward—through root and stone, through corridor and heart—until it reached the quieter halls of the palace, where another choice waited with equal patience. Corren stood alone in the Hall of Roots, the Verdant Crown resting upon its living pedestal. It was not forged by fire but shaped by time—wood veined with gold, leaves eternally green along its arch. The chamber smelled of earth and rain, ancient and steady.

I walked to her and sat beside her; she had lost in thought to the extent of not knowing I was already beside her. I tapped her shoulder, and I saw her flinging up but sitting back when she saw I was the one. "Caroline," she called, her voice laced with sadness. "What happened again? The preparation is finally over, and the ceremony is tomorrow, so why the gloomy face again?" I asked, and she sighed out loudly. "The ceremony is tomorrow, I know, but I'm not happy," she said, and I furrowed my brow, not knowing where she's particularly heading because she was supposed to be happy, she will be crowned the Holy witch tomorrow.

The Lunari chair stood empty, draped in black. I looked around, I seen my father sitting at the head of the table, our king, a towering figure in both stature and presence, exuded an aura of cold, unyielding ambition. His eyes, sharp and calculating, gleamed with an insatiable hunger for power an appetite that could never be sated, no matter how many kingdoms he claimed or how many crowns he added to his collection. His face was lined with the marks of age and experience, but there was no softness in his expression, no trace of kindness or warmth. The people who looked upon him saw not a father, but a ruler, a king forged from iron will and relentless desire for control.

"Why?" He tilted his head, a motion smooth and wolfish, as though the beast within him had never truly left. His damp hair fell across his brow, shadowing one crimson eye, but even concealed, his beauty was a thing to unmake the world. "Because I am a curse," he said softly through lips that looked carved for both cruelty and tenderness. He seemed too much: too regal, too dangerous, too unearthly for this small, lamplit room. "And those who hunt curses care little for what else burns in their wake."

Whatever noble refinement he had spent years cultivating shattered like cheap glass. Sebastian let out a short, contemptuous laugh. His polished, hand-made leather shoe came down, pinning Lorenzo’s palm to the floor with agonizing precision. "The head of the family? Lorenzo, you seem to have forgotten who anointed you to that seat. In this city, what I bestow, I can reclaim whenever I please." Pinned and helpless, Lorenzo twisted his head, staring up at me with eyes saturated in pure venom. "Joanna, you make me sick. I can't believe how fast you crawled into the Don’s bed."